Chapter 20
“Wait, what? No, there’s really no need for that…”
“Oh, hush. You’re going to be partners, so the Count’s input is absolutely essential.”
…My input?
Before I could even get a word of protest in, Violet was already ushering me away. I could hear her barking orders at the staff to bring out the two finalist dresses. This side of the boutique had a dressing room that connected directly to the waiting area.
Without much choice, I was bundled into the room along with a staff member clutching the dresses.
Violet must have headed back to the waiting area where Lucian was, because she was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Lucian Heissen’s calm, steady voice drifted in from behind the heavy curtains. I was honestly surprised he hadn’t just left already.
“Is she finished?” he asked.
“Sorry for the wait! We’re just about done, but the young lady insisted we get your opinion on the final look. Would you mind taking a look?”
“…Lady Diaz said that?”
“Oh, absolutely! You two really are quite close, aren’t you? Hoho!”
Violet’s cat-like laughter followed.
“Count, please let us know which of these two designs you prefer once the lady steps out.”
“…”
God, I just wanted to drop everything and leave. My irritation had spiked so high it had looped back around into a weird sense of Zen-like detachment.
Should I just disappear? Forget the debutante ball and everything else—maybe I’ll just go into hiding until I find a way to end this for good.
Despite my internal monologue, my body cooperated as the third dress was draped over me. When the screen and curtains finally pulled back, the room opened up.
There was Lucian Heissen, sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed. He watched me with an unreadable expression. I met his gaze with a vacant stare and a self-deprecating smile, desperately hoping he’d realize this whole thing wasn’t my idea and that Violet was talking nonsense.
His eyes traveled slowly down, taking in the dress, before shifting to the other gown displayed on the mannequin beside me. Then, his gaze returned to my face.
Taking the opportunity, I gave a pointed glance down at the dress I was currently wearing, trying to signal him. After a beat of silence, Lucian finally spoke.
“We’ll go with this one.”
“Oh? But she hasn’t even tried the other one on yet,” Violet chimed in.
“No need,” he replied, his eyes fluttering shut briefly before opening again. “The first one clearly suits her best.”
“…You have excellent taste, Count. I was thinking the exact same thing. This dress matches her aura perfectly.”
Violet’s flattery was laid on thick. Then why on earth did you try to push that fifth dress on me earlier? I knew she could be eccentric, but she’d never ignored my preferences like this before. I wondered if she was testing us to see how well our tastes aligned.
Honestly, it’s just a dress. People make such a fuss.
Regardless, it was finally over. The shoes and jewelry had already been picked out, so all that was left was for the Le Blanc Boutique to finish the alterations and deliver everything before the banquet.
I changed back into my own clothes and stepped out of the boutique to find Lucian waiting by the door. As the staff bowed us out, I noticed the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon. I felt utterly drained. I sincerely hoped I’d never have to set foot in Le Blanc again.
Now, I just need to part ways with Lucian naturally.
I stole a glance at his face, which was caught in the glow of the sunset. Before climbing into the carriage, Lucian checked his pocket watch and turned to me.
“Would you like to grab some dinner?”
Dinner too?
I realized I was actually quite hungry, having skipped lunch after breakfast. I stared off at the setting sun for a moment, weighing my options.
“…Sure.”
I had to wait until nightfall anyway, so I had some time to kill. Still, I wasn’t sure if I’d actually be able to keep anything down with him sitting across from me. Our last meal together had been… awkward, to say the least.
Lucian looked exactly the same as when we met this morning—which is to say, he looked exhausted. I wondered what he’d been doing while he waited.
“Aren’t you tired?” I asked.
He turned his head slightly, his expression flat. “I’m fine.”
That was odd. I remembered him being the type of person who absolutely loathed wasting time. He used to be the guy who would scowl if a meeting started even a minute late. Maybe he’d changed.
“Are you alright, Lady Diaz? You looked a bit unwell earlier.”
“…Let’s not talk about that. For the record, that whole situation was entirely Madame Violet’s doing. Don’t get the wrong idea.”
“Understood. Are you happy with the dress?”
“Yes. I’m glad you picked a good one.”
A small, genuine huff of a laugh escaped him. For a fleeting second, that faint smile softened the entire atmosphere.
“There’s a good place nearby. Let’s head there.”
The carriage swayed gently as we merged onto the road. Lucian sat perfectly still, staring out the window. His profile looked like a finely carved statue—straight nose, sharp jawline, practically flawless. Sometimes he felt almost too perfect, like he wasn’t quite human.
The warmth of the carriage made me want to sigh. I was fighting the urge to drift off; if I fell asleep now, it would ruin all my plans.
We headed toward the outskirts of town and pulled up to a high-end restaurant I didn’t recognize. The building looked brand new. I guess a lot can change in three years, I thought.
The interior was designed for privacy, with separate areas that kept conversations from carrying. It was quiet—I liked it. And since Lucian was picky, I figured the food would at least be decent.
Once we were seated, Lucian handed me the menu.
“Go ahead and choose, Lady Diaz.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
He picked the place and then couldn’t even bother to choose his own meal? Typical. I ordered the course meal listed as the chef’s recommendation. One item caught my eye, so I flagged down the server.
“Does this dessert contain peaches?”
“Yes, it does. We can leave them out if you’d like.”
“Please do. Make it without the peaches.”
“Understood.”
As soon as the server left, I realized Lucian was staring at me.
“I take it you don’t like peaches?”
“I can’t eat them,” I replied automatically.
He froze for a second. “Are you talking to me?”
Ah.
I quickly corrected myself. “No, I meant I can’t eat them. I’m allergic.”
“…I see.”
“Are they a favorite of yours? I should have asked before I told them to take them out.”
“I can eat them, but I don’t particularly enjoy them.”
“…Really?”
I gave him a skeptical look. What is he talking about? He almost died once after eating a peach. I vividly remember his throat swelling up—it was so bad I had to personally take him to the temple. Granted, we were just kids back then.
The only reason I remember it so clearly is because that was the very first day I met him. Being around him was starting to pull all these old memories to the surface. I thought they were buried deep in the past, but the more I looked at him, the more the details came flooding back.
It was early spring, right when the flower buds were starting to peek out from the trees. I must have been about fourteen. Back then, everything felt tedious and annoying. Even swordsmanship, the one thing I actually liked, was becoming a massive source of stress under my father’s brutal instruction.
My own ambition, tangled up with my father’s crushing expectations, made the sword feel heavier in my hand every day.
The weather that day was beautiful—clear skies, a soft breeze—but I felt like I’d been dragged through the mud. My father had called a surprise sparring test. He never went easy on anyone, even if his opponent was his fourteen-year-old daughter. In fact, he was usually harsher on me because of it.
I made a mistake—a rare one for me. My grip slipped, and my silver blade clattered onto the dirt.
A chilling silence fell over the training grounds. I heard the slow shing of my father sheathing his sword. I stared blankly at the dust settling around us, and as I reached down to pick up my blade and stand, it happened.
Whack.
I felt the impact before I even registered the pain. It wasn’t a surprise; I’d learned to expect it.
“Ignis. A mistake is a reflection of your skill. You are pathetic.”
His voice was cold and authoritative—hardly the way a father should speak to his daughter. And the words that followed were the same ones I’d heard a thousand times before.
